TigerMoon
by Crazy Cookie
Summary: CHAPTER 4 – The Troopers meet at Nasutei’s to attend the wedding of Mukara and Naria. Another wedding of sorts also takes place for Luna. But does she find hapiness and eternal bliss? And Nasutei gets in ‘touch’ with her feminine side...
1. Prologue: Sakura Dreams

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Disclaimer: Yoroiden Samurai Troopers and all characters in the following story that are from the television and Original Animated Video (OAV) series, (GaiDen, The Legend of Kikoutei, Message) are the properties of Sunrise Animation/Nagoya TV/Sony Entertainment. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

Motivation: Why I "Dood" It -

Because Luna is hot! At least I think so. Like most in the YST/RW fandom, I learned about GaiDen on the Internet and the attraction between Ryo and Luna. So I had to get a video copy of GaiDen and view it for myself to confirm my own impressions –- and I actually got goose bumps. I still do. 

But two main points stuck out for me. First, Ryo and Luna immediately struck me as Yin and Yang -- Sun and Moon, Day and Night, Dragon and Tiger, opposites on the same coin. And seeing how she was such a little firecracker herself, I knew she could've kept hotheaded Ryo on his toes –- had she lived. 

Second, even her name, after the ancient Roman moon goddess, falls right into that mythological vein, hence the title, TigerMoon. We all know by now that she died a very poignant death at the end. But anyone who knows something about moon mythology and its connection with death and the underworld knows that death is not an ending, but only a transitional phase. This fanfic is written with those themes as the basis of its motivating spirit. It is also written in the spirit of Yoroiden Samurai Troopers instead of Ronin Warriors. It may be wishful thinking, but in my opinion despite what the folks at Sunrise say, the three OAVs are incomplete; they did not finish telling the story of the Troopers lives and their adventures. After all, they did get new yoroi (armor). 

[R] Restricted-Under 17 requires accompanying parent or adult guardian : This signifies that the rating board has concluded that the film rated contains some adult material. Parents are urged to learn more about the film before taking their children to see it. **An R may be assigned due to, among other things, a film's use of language, theme, violence, sex or its portrayal of drug use.** (As adopted by FanFiction.Net Content Guidelines)  


Rating: R – 

I really don't know how to properly categorized this because it has a little of everything. Considering the subject, yes, it has drama (angst) and romance (blush), but I'm trying to get a little action (yeah!) in there as well. **Again, there are some mature themes, some harsh/vulgar language and violence.**

I started this "project" over a year ago. However, I temporarily dropped it because, frankly, life got in the way. But in between time, I've had the pleasure of reading the works of some excellent fic writers whose stories I've found to be every bit as entertaining as those who get paid to do this for a living. So I've decided to get back in the saddle and finish what I started by putting this story to the test and exposing it to the light of public reviewing (gulp). I'm very open to constructive criticism, so don't be shy in giving me any feedback to help me become a better writer. Of course, encouraging words are most definitely welcomed ;-. As far as any typos or other related editing issues are concerned, please bear with me –- believe it or not, it really is hard to write and be your own editor. Just let me know and I'll be glad to fix it. So Without Further Ado...

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TIGERMOON

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by DK Cook (Crazy Cookie)

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Chapter One - Prologue: Sakura Dreams

"...need me...can't...let them down..."

The spring rains finally came to an end. The evening's downpour nearly created a flashflood and could have washed away all the green new birth that carpeted through the Yamanashi valley forests and ravines. But the season's torrent had been replaced by the lullaby sounds of soft drizzle, its rhythmic pitter-patter muffling through the clean night air. Yet, seeping from this moment of tranquility, an unusually thick and steamy mist began to form. Mingling with the cooler air, it rose from the leaves and the moss, from stone-covered paths and over rocky streams, and drifted off alpine trees that covered the rolling mountain hills. Like a serpentine dragon that climbed to heaven, this spirit of nature summoned its arcane essence over the Yamanashi landscape –- transcending it into the Land of the Kami:

"...be strong...no...don't leave..."

Slowly drawn across the night sky, the few remaining rain clouds parted -- nature's nocturnal veil that traversed the realms between heaven and earth, between the light and the dark –- and between life and death –- revealing the ethereal beauty of a full moon. The moon beamed a path of light beyond a mountain cabin bedroom window, the paned glass still water-streaked from the rains, until her rays rested upon the tortured subconscious of Sanada Ryo. With her soft highlights she caressed his face like a gentle lover, as he valiantly fought between sweat-soaked sheets:

"...please...don't...my friends...I'm sorrr..."

Damn them, it was those inner demons again, trying to take him away from her by replaying their painful images of loss and failure to cruelly torture him in his dreams:

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"Come Rekka, let us play with you this night..."

"N-no...no! Jun...Nasutei...Seiji...gotta save...

Korin?"

It was the green yoroi, Korin, the armor of light with No-Dachi, the shuriken-hilted sword and armor extension of Korin, lumbering through the center of a surreal downtown Manhattan, made up of bizarre tall buildings and deserted wide streets. 

Through unforeseen events, Korin had fallen into the wrong hands and was manipulated into a soulless armor for evil, while No-Dachi, once wield with pride in the name of good to cut through evil's dark lies and deceptions, was now being serviced in the name of the wicked. This was evident by the blood of its victims that bled profusely from the gaping holes of Korin's face-protector and oozed thickly over the plates of its body armor. 

This unnerving vision filled Ryo's closed eyes, as his subconscious smelled the stench of hot blood that nauseatingly singed his nostrils. Korin suddenly came to an abrupt halt in a seemingly vacant Times Square. Menacingly, Korin then held No-Dachi with both hands high overhead and shifted into a ready stance to strike down its next victim, the half-drained naked form of Date Seiji, now positioned in its murderous path. Seiji was strung up in a confusion of wires and electrodes while his small, doll-like body contorted and shook with pain. He had become a perverse marionette, manipulated by the pleasures of the smirking Master Scientist, who was totally in command at the console of his computer data "brain":

"Seiji...hold on! I'm coming...!"

Now fully armored and battle-ready, Ryo felt his reflexes launch his body into action. Fueled by uncontrollable anger and disgust, he gritted his teeth and burned with determination to rescue his friend with the help of his twin katanas, Rekka Ken. But instead of victory, Ryo found himself strangling. Snatched in mid-air by an unseen attack, a wave of multi-stranded filaments pulled and contracted like coiling tentacles around his throat, slashing his face and armor –- controlled by the dark will in the degenerative altered form of Shikaisen. Unable to break free from the tendrils, Ryo gasped for air. Tears from pain and frustration burned his eyes as he helplessly watched his friend writhed in agony, more dead than alive, while pressure created by the multi-stranded snare began to crack his own red yoroi.

But when Korin's terrible sword finally cleaved down, it was Jun and Nasutei that were brutally executed in one, torso-rendering stroke. The rush of the heavy blade cutting through the air, the screams of shock, and the sick gushing of their lives rung horribly in Ryo's ears.

It was hard to believe that it had been nine months. Nearly a year had passed since the Troopers' returned from America, but their battle to rescue their brother-in-arms from the evil wizardry of the necromancer, Shikaisen, continued to haunt Ryo in his dreams. Beads of tension ran down the sides of his face:

"DIE...SHIKAISEN!! SEN Kooo zeee...*"

Nearly suffocating in an outbreak of sweat, Ryo suddenly inhaled a welcomed sigh of relief, as displays of colorful party streamers, poppers and echoes of laughter came to his rescue. Party animals Shu and Shin were at it again, kidding around and pouring drinks into each other's hair at his sixteenth surprise birthday party, which was privately catered in one of the most elegant hotel rooms that Nasutei could arrange and Ryo had ever seen. 

Ryo could barely remember the last time the day of his birth was so incredibly celebrated. Before his "link" with the other four, with the exception of Byakuen, he really had no one to share his happy moments –- or times of sadness. And although he had loved his father dearly, and his dad tried his best to be available, there never seemed to be enough time between them. The kind of time that all sons need from their fathers that would eventually help them to become men of their own. But Ryo understood at an early age that being a single parent, his father had to support them both as best as he knew how. Yet in the beginning, there were still those few special moments when it was just the two of them, when his dad introduced him to the open, outdoor beauty and freedom of nature and what he did as a photographer. 

But, inevitably, as the months rolled into years, Ryo had lost him too, to his never-ending photographic excursions. Fate. Now that he was gone for good, the only thing Ryo could do was to mourn his death, and visit him through his dreams. Still, over the years of growing up alone, Ryo sometimes wondered if it was something else that kept his father away from him. Was it just fate? _Or was it something too painful...that made Dad stay away?_ Ryo would wonder. His father told him once that his looks favored his mother. 

Ryo could hardly recall his mother. Since she died when he was very young, the only memory he had of her was from the family photo shot that he kept in a frame and perched on the top of his dresser. There they were, all three of them together in one place, surrounded by the multi-colored outdoors of autumn with a small cabin peeking in the background, happily dwelling in a fairyland of changing maple leaves in the Yamanashi mountain wilderness. Truly, a precious moment in time.

Mom was curled between dad's outstretched legs as they sat on the blanket-covered grass, while Dad reached out and wrapped his arms around the small of her waist, warmly hugging her close to him right before the automatic timer of his camera went off. There they both were, wearing the broadest of grins with bits of fall clinging in their hair and on their clothes. And of course, Ryo himself in a little red jumper outfit, held up on a pair of still-wobbly legs by mom and about the age when he had just taken his first steps. A falling leaf had just caught his attention. He tried to reached out to it and save it from its fate. With loving approval of her first-born son's latest accomplishment, his mother's fingers had gently stroked through the ruffled locks of his jet-black hair already taking on its characteristic curl, an odd trait he inherited from his father. She was a pretty and petite young woman of twenty-three, who liked to wear her shoulder-length black hair pulled back into a single lacquered pony-tail, while a flaming red hair band framed her oval face and kept her bangs off her brow. Except for the few wisps that fell into the fiery cobalt blue of her eyes. Not a very conventional family portrait, but dad was never known for stepping in line, and apparently, neither was mom.

But what little Ryo knew about his mom was through his father, and even then, the man would rarely speak of her. But on that rare occasion when he did, his voice had cracked, as he described her as "captivating", and painfully sighed with regretfulness that "she was just too young to have been taken away".

Yet over time, Ryo learned to accept the solitude of having to grow up nearly on his own, and indeed at times, he rather enjoyed it. It gave him an inner fortitude and determination that he felt he otherwise wouldn't have, plus the added bonus of independence. However, there were those other days, though very few and very far between when the solitude became too much. Although he wasn't afraid of death, it was one those very rare days that he'd asked himself the question –- _who would miss me if I were to die? _

So it was such moments as his birthday party that made him treasure these new bonds of true friendship. He continued to savor the warm images and good feelings, as Nasutei, Jun and the rest of the team were once again introduced to Shu's "overly friendly", but good-hearted Uncle Chin. A slight smile curled across Ryo's dreaming face.

Then, she happened. This street-smart "wild girl" who ran through the concrete catacombs of New York. A kaleidoscope of emotions and contradictions invaded his dreams, as the face of the bold and determined Luna exploded onto his dreamscape –- and into Uncle Chin's restaurant. 

Once again Ryo saw the visage of her rage and grief, as the jagged-spine blade of her Rambo knife slashed out for vengeance, when in error she attacked Touma for the death of her older brother. Then, as if he blinked for only a moment, he suddenly found himself alone with Touma. The both of them were in full armor gear and trapped –- trapped between the powerful demon-jaws of the law, while the grotesque and shadowy face of Shikaisen loomed over them, his vile and raspy laughter cackling into the air. Ryo could actual feel the jaws' hot, steamy breath pour over them as he struggled to prevent its salivating teeth from crunching down upon them and still support a wounded Tenku. But just as the full force of the law was about to snap it jaws shut, suddenly, she appeared to him once more and led them all to safety, the three of them racing through the underground of New York. Completely stunned by her unexpected kindness, Ryo felt himself smile once more. And once again, he saw that smile, shining from the light of her deep, dark eyes, and witnessed her inexplicable tenderness when she realized her mistake and cared for Touma's injuries.

Suddenly, Ryo felt himself being swept back to the very spot where they talked alone on the Brooklyn Bridge. The sun was setting over the New York skyline, yet its red and golden rays seemed to bathe a warm tangerine glow that was meant only for the two of them. Her brightly colored orange scarf and her long, black braid were caught in the winds off the bridge, like a streaming butterfly buffered about in a strong breeze. Maybe it was his imagination, but somehow, it seemed that her braid was actually teasing him with its twisted charm, as it fluttered through the winds with every gust. Then, once again, he could felt the same heat of her closeness that touched his heart, as she pressed her body against his and asked:

"Ryo, I'm a member of your team...aren't I?"

And once again, he found himself lost. She was an interesting contradiction, the phases of her character shifting like her namesake. One moment, she could be hard and sharp as the combat blade she always carried, willing to stand her ground and be afraid of no one, not even when faced against strong-man Shu, who confronted her within the sewers for her earlier attack at the restaurant. But when she let down her guard, she revealed her softer nature and became as supple as her braid that swayed in the winds. So at that moment when she gazed up at him, the wisps of her hair fell into pools of dark and pleading eyes that reflected the radiance of the sunset, the stirrings in her heart, and her desperation for revenge from their surface.

But then an icy sorrow plunged deep into his chest and gripped around his heart. That familiar feeling of shock and disbelief when to his horror, he watched her fall once more to her fate. On the bridge he couldn't permit himself to touch her, after all, this was a mission to save a friend and brother-in-arms. And...she came from a world much different than his. She was not Nihonjin, but Amerikajin, an African-American with a street-Harlem beat. At the time he thought that unexplained and personal feelings should best be pushed aside. But devastated by the grim reality of loosing this precious life forever, he cradled her broken body close to him –- too late. Mortally shattered from her confrontation with the evil Shikaisen, he felt her life slipping through his fingers as she slowly collapsed in his arms. 

Yet, finally, she was in his arms. She had murmured his name -– for one last time. And one more time, she gave him a tiny, beautiful smile that eased across her face and over her suffering and grief:

"r-yo…*"

And when the light in her eyes that captivated his soul on the bridge began to leave this world of pain and sadness, he could not let her go. Still, he hopelessly grasped at the broken gossamer threads that was her life, as he tearfully watched them drift away. All that was left was the crushing reality and tormenting hurt that, as Wielder of the Soul Swords of Fervor –- he didn't have the power to save her. 

In a flurry of Sakura blossoms, their tiny precious moment together had bloomed and died too soon before it ever had the chance to take root. Because throughout all the battle and turmoil, this fourteen year-old brash foreign girl, who had finally awakened to her womanhood and turned the fancy of this hotheaded young man, never received from him her first kiss in her short, rough life. In the end, together as one heart, the Troopers rescued their brother-in-arms and won their battle. But for the first time in his solitary life, Ryo had gained just one, small, brief chance to open his heart to someone he had quickly grown to liking so much, only to lose her so utterly and completely. Happy Birthday, Ryo...

"NO! LUNAAAHHH!!!"

His barriers were finally broken, and the moon's surface glowed fully in triumph.

His emotions wrung raw, an assault of impulses and driving passions smashed into Ryo's subconscious, and raided his fantasies. Swept up by his tears and anguish, he softly pressed the warmth of his lips against hers, in a vain, yet desperate attempt to breathe life once more into Luna's body and bring her back into his arms from oblivion. A blistering aura of white-hot crashed through his head and consumed his senses, while pulsating waves of fever ravaged his flesh. A hardening desire began to swell, and then...

DARKNESS!

Drenched in a sheet of sweat, Ryo snapped upright out of his reverie and nearly fell out of his bed. His crop of black hair was matted close to his head, while beads of perspiration hung from their ends. A few rivets streaked down his face while other droplets continued their trail, past defined abdominals and collected into a tiny pool of moisture at the base of his navel. Deep red pajama bottoms also stuck to his body, darkened further by a mixture of cold sweat and an unexpected hot release, resulting in a warm, sweet sensation that had filled his loins. Ryo's eyes were opened, but he was still half-dreaming. Although his throat burned and his lungs felt painfully tight from hyperventilation, slowly, Ryo began to breathe more deeply, and with each breath he took, his eyes shifted more into focus. It was still dark, but now he could make out the white patches of fur in Byakuen's out-stretched body. The huge black-and-white tiger had been sleeping across the floor near Ryo's bed, on top of his own personalized floor mat with the word **TIGER** running through it in big, bold letters. But now alerted by Ryo's cries, the Bengal was wide-awake and began to deeply but softly growl. Ryo saw Byakuen's concern reflecting back at him, the way all cats' eyes eerily illuminate through the darkness.

Ryo fumbled for the switch to the nightlight that sat next to his bed. Now sitting on the mattress' edge, he took a moment, waiting for the dull throb in his head to clear. Then taking his hand and in one smooth motion, he wiped the sweat out of his eyes and raked his fingers through his thick hair. When he started to feel the weight of his legs beneath him again, he weakly stood up and walked over to Byakuen, giving a reassuring huge around the scruff of the big cat's neck.

"Don't worry, it-its just another bad dream. Y'know, you'd think you would be used to this by now", but as he spoke, Ryo felt the irony of his own words. "Sorry Byakuen — you'd think I would be used to this by now."

Slowly he stood up once more and took a few steps to walk away. Still with some shakiness, Ryo managed to untie the drawstrings that held the bottoms around his waist, peel down the sticky-wet material and kick it to the side. Exposed was more bare skin that glistened a golden sheen, emphasizing the lean sinews that flexed firmly through his gluteals and down into his thighs and calves, the result from his years of training with the mystical mountain monk, Kaosu, and becoming the bearer of the red yoroi, Rekka. 

Still feeling awkward about the palpitations and the developing clamminess between his legs, Ryo treaded across the bedroom floor, out the door through a small hallway and veered off into the connecting bathroom. Although the walls were neatly lined with smooth tile squares, and the plumbing fixtures that were electronically updated and modern, the bathroom was nevertheless done in the traditional Japanese style or _ofuro_, complimenting the outer quaintness of the cabin and the serenity of the mountains. More square and generous in size and depth than its western counterpart, the bathtub was already filled and waiting to offer its relaxing contents, heated and maintained solely for the purpose to melt away any of the day's built-up tensions while cleansing the bather's spirit. Ryo enjoyed his hot baths, particularly after a day of trekking through the mountains, but he knew that any amount of soaking would never give him the kind of relief he urgently needed from the night's pressing wants and frustrations. So instead, he sat on the stool in the small washing area adjacent to the soaking bathtub and snatched the hand shower that hung directly in front of him from its wall attachment. Bracing slightly in anticipation, Ryo took a quick breath. With a twist of the faucet, he was immediately hit by a full shower blast of wet-cold, slapping him directly across the face. He had hoped that the cold shock would snap his mind clear and knock out the residual heat that still kindled through him –- especially the hardness that, despite his earlier release, continued its swelling in his groin. For the next several minutes he continued passing the hand shower from top to toe, goose bumps replacing the semi-erection, thus helping him regain his control. 

Nearly twenty minutes later, Ryo emerged from the bathroom and returned to his bedroom, towel wrapped snuggly around his waste while another hung loosely over his head, covering his dampened hair and shoulders. In spite of the cold shower, however, she was still on his mind. Then struck by a curious thought, he stopped in the middle of the room, and with a slight hesitation, walked over to his dresser and pulled open the top drawer. Hidden deep at the back of its bottom, Ryo retrieved a brightly colored orange scarf. Despite what everyone believed, it was the one thing —- the only thing of hers that he managed to save that night from destruction. His chest began to tighten again, and a mournful lump raised in his throat as feelings of bittersweetness swelled in his eyes:

"I-I...I am a Samurai Trooper...but I couldn't protect you. I'm so sorry...Luna", he softly whispered, as he gently brought the silken memories to his lips. "I wish you were here."

As the minutes slipped by, Ryo continued to stare deeply into the material that draped his hand; he had fallen under its spell and was now completely mesmerized by its sensation of silk. Then something seemed to snap from within his head. With a gasp, Ryo felt the temporal world around him exploded in a hot white flash. His body was covered in another cold sweat, but this time he trembled violently from a cutting chill that sliced into his mind and burrowed deeply in his soul. Between outstretched arms, he leaned his weight against the dresser and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stop the turbulence around him in vain. His uncontrollable racking shook through the dresser, causing the small picture frame that sat on its top to topple over. Nearly lapsing into unconsciousness, Ryo could feel the weight of his own body being dragged down to the floor, as if pulled by the undertow of some unseen current. Still he somehow managed to keep his head and shoulders pressed against the lower part of the dresser for support, desperately panting for air. 

When the dizziness and pain finally stopped, Ryo slowly peeled open his eyes; the intense blue of their irises shifted here and there and made a careful sweep of his bedroom, confirming that, indeed, nothing had changed and that everything was in its proper place. Then his eyes gazed down into his hand and registered that he was still clutching the scarf —- and the impossibility screeched into his brain:

"NO! I-IT CAN'T BE..."

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To Be Continued...

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I hope you've enjoyed my beginning chapter. Does it have potential as a full-blown series? (Please say YES!) You can e-mail me at animecookie@attbi.com if you're too shy to post a review. And thanks for giving me your reading time.


	2. From the Ashes

Yoroiden Samurai Troopers and all characters in the proceeding story from the television and Original Animated Video (OAV) series, (GaiDen, The Legend of Kikoutei, Message) are the property of Sunrise Animation/Nagoya TV/Sony Entertainment. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

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TIGERMOON

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by DK Cook (Crazy Cookie)

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Chapter Two – From the Ashes...

"Everyone...I'm sorry...but, the local authorities... they'll be here any second now." Whether it was from breathing the irritating dust that had clung to her clothes and clumped between the strands of her auburn-red hair, or from the sorrow and anxiety that choked in her throat, Nasutei's voice trembled uncontrollably. "We've got to leave this place...quickly," she coughed, while her hand protected over her nose and mouth. 

Still stinging from their confrontation with the wizard necromancer, the Troopers' battle against Shikaisen was complete. But their cost of victory had come at very bitter price. Now on top of everything else, they realize they must quickly escape out of Little Tokyo to avoid the attention of the police and the media. 

"Big Sister's right, guys. We gotta get outta here!" Jun nervously whined. 

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Poor Jun, Nasutei thought. _Luna...and all those innocent people celebrating at the festival...he saw them all die horribly because of Shikaisen. Shikaisen. He was coming for us and would have killed Jun, and then me, if... _"Oh Luna...Luna...didn't you know that just a knife...?" _Still, you narrowly brought us the time needed to free the team from their trap. But...if you hadn't... _

As her thoughts trailed off, Nasutei could see Jun's death in her mind's eye, and then envisioned her own death, and finally the demise of all the Troopers. In the end, everyone would have died, but she knew it would have only been the beginning. 

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With his kind of wizardry _and the terrible technology of the Master Scientist at his disposal, he would have thoroughly analyzed and gained total control over the full powers of all the yoroi._ "Even...even Kikoutei," Nasutei gasped. "And then..." 

Startled, she saw across the horizon of her imagination Hell on Earth made real, as the surface of the planet shrieked in a fiery maelstrom beyond madness and mass destruction. The desecrating vision of the now man-made-demon-god cackled wildly in triumph over the global funeral pyre, its flames fanned by the world's unending carnage and suffering. 

But, what filled her imagination with dread the most was the grisly vision of discarded human husks that were beyond counting. Destroyed souls of men, women, and even children, whose hollowed-out corpses piled high into a climbing mountain of death -- so high, that it scraped the underbelly of their scorched skies. Everyday people, who had lived plain, ordinary lives. Their life forces, along with all of their personal dreams and ambitions, and the hope for the existence of all their future generations -- had been grimly sucked bone-dry, and mercilessly relished. A deathly chill rolled beneath Nasutei's skin, causing her to shudder inconsolably. Still, she mustered the strength to wrap a comforting arm around Jun's shoulders, and with prayers of thankfulness, hugged him close to her -- for the both of them.

With its roof blown off and the thick masonry walls of its main hall brought down, Shikaisen's sanctum had been reduced to stone and rubble. Still shuffling about the ruins to reorganize themselves, the Troopers had transformed back into their yoroi undergear. It was then, when Touma noticed that Seiji was still suffering from his ordeal with Shikaisen. Barely able to support his own weight, his legs beneath him shook as pain racked through his body with each step that he took.

"Seiji...you all right?"

"Well, I'm not ready to jump any hurdles just yet, but as soon as we get back home, I'll be fine." Seiji flashed a small grin of reassurance to his teammate, but his misery still winced through his facade.

"Don't worry, I'm right here." Touma offered his shoulder as support while attempting to wrap his friend's arm around his neck. 

"C'mon, Touma...I'm okay, really. I'm not the only one who got battered. I know you took some damage too. I'll be all right." Seiji's conscientious but weak attempt to push Touma away and downplay his own personal trauma was still unconvincing.

"Will you stop giving me the tough bushido act, 'kay?" But having seen his torture and humiliation, Touma's initial impatience with Seiji's stubbornness had eased, causing his usually clear calculating eyes to soften into an unusual compassionate shade of blue. "Look, Seiji... you've just been through a lot. Just lean on me, all right? That's why we're all here. It's our destiny to fight together, and that also means to support each other. So it's all right. Really. It's all right."

"I-I..." for a brief second, Seiji couldn't bring himself to face his friend. Perhaps it was from feelings of failure as the bearer of the green yoroi, Korin, and as a Samurai Trooper. For although his mind and spirit were strong, his strength still had its limitations. Or, perhaps it was from feelings of shame. Feelings that, despite his years of intense bushido training, discipline and meditations under the strict teachings his grandfather, and despite Kaosu's spiritual guidance to find the truth in a world of lies, he had still been duped by the machinations of the evil wizard. He had unwittingly exposed himself as a target -- which could have lead to the abuse of the armors and destruction of his brothers-in-arms. Another moment had passed, and then, hesitantly, Seiji lifted the lids to his lavender eyes, and saw Touma's face troubled with true concern between his single blue lock. Finally, he conceded: "You're right, Touma."

Standing on the other side of the former great hall, Ryo blankly stared at the spot where the power of Kikoutei destroyed Shikaisen -- and where Luna had just died. His thoughts had drifted back reliving their final moments together. And then she died in his arms. Tears were streaming down Ryo's face as he held Luna's still body in his arms and gently brushed the wisps of her bangs from her lifeless eyelids. His fingertips then traced over the folds of the orange scarf that had charmed him so on the bridge. The rest of the Troopers contending with Shikaisen, never noticed Ryo untying the silken scarf from her braid. They were all in the middle of a battle, yet this overwhelming impulse came over him -- the need to have something of hers. From someone as temperamental as he, yet whose strength of will and conviction to face personal dangers head-on in what she believed matched his own.

Blinking his eyes, Ryo found himself back in his immediate reality once again, surrounded by the aftermath of the battle. Unable to prevent the pain from seeping to his eyes, he heavily berated himself. "Luna, I thought I could...but I was wrong. He was just too dangerous. Damn you, Shikaisen! And now...dammit! Dammit all! And...and damn myself, because I should've never had let you come. At least you'd still be safe...and alive."

The others now looked across and saw the back of Ryo's trembling form, and having witnessed the full consequences of what had happened and what she had done, and they too, were filled with grief from the loss of their recent friend.

From the very beginning, Shu, who judged her as such a major pain in the ass, had constantly fought her with the same intense rivalry between a bickering brother and sister. But now he was overcome with a sadness that caved in his broad chest. It was unbelievable, almost inconceivable, that someone who was very capable of dishing it out as good as she got was now gone forever. Just like that. It was one of the rarer moments that the Warrior of Justice found himself deeply subdued and barely able to speak, now that he had suddenly lost his new "sparing partner". Especially when he was just learning to respect her.

"Good-bye...Little Sister."

"Ryo..." Shin began somberly as he walked up behind him. "I...I so wish it hadn't ended like this. Not like this. She...she had a brave heart and a true spirit." He had placed a reassuring hand on top of Ryo's shoulder and carefully continued. "And... And, I know it's really difficult right now... but...we've got to go."

"Alright...all right," Ryo sighed, his voice cracked and his chest heaved heavily from heartache and regret. "Let's get out of here. But...there's something I need to do in Brooklyn..."

Silently, Shin gave an understanding nod.

Barely moments after the Troopers' departure, the amplified blare of sirens and the strobing flash of blue-red lights flooded into the night air, announcing the arrival of an army of police cruisers. As the screeching wheels of the black-and-whites drove deeper into the cemetery grounds, thick particles of dust began to fill the air and quickly formed into a cloudy signpost that pointed towards the entrance to the mausoleum, still belching out its contents of heavy smoke and debris. When the police finally arrived at the immediate area where the battle took place, they thought they had landed onto the ragged surface of the moon. 

Flashlight in hand, one of the younger officers, stunned by such destruction while trying to clear his throat, spat, "Well knock the snot outta my...! What the hell could've set this place off?

"That's exactly why we're here, officer. To find out who's got the kind of action to nuke this place to Kingdom Come," the lieutenant detective gruffly replied.

Lt. Detective Phillips then turned his back, rolled his eyes and sarcastically lamented under his breath, "Nothin' like having a bunch of 'Columbos' workin' with me". Its 'detective work' like that that makes me go home to a shot or two of Jack Daniels every night." Phillips spun around once again and pulled out his backpocket handkerchief to cover over his nose and mouth as he barked his orders to the rest of his investigative team. "Okay people, you know the routine! This area is off limits to the public, and I don't wanna see any media dogs sniffin' around for a news story until further orders." Sharply, he turned away again and wearily massaged the tension that crept along the back of his thick neck muscles and groaned, "Yeah. All I need now is for a few government ATF boys to muscle in on this action and bust my balls down on this case to being their unofficial ass-wipe. Yep, it's gonna be one of 'em nights." 

Then by reflex, he hawked loudly a nasty, vulgar sound from the base of his throat and spat its awful bitter result onto the ground. He then mashed it into the dirt with the heel of his shoe, wishing that he could scrub his tonsils down to his lungs clean. "Shit. Even my pack-an'-a-half-a-day bad habit doesn't make me hack it up this bad." Immediately he radioed downtown for extra equipment and backup. "...An' we'll need something to help us all to breathe a little easier, too. If we're gonna have to sift through this mess, then I don't wanna worry about gettin' some kinda lung disease, or somethin'"

The night finally melted into another summer dog day, and sweltered back into another steamy night. Although only the surface had been scratched in the process of trying to gather what little physical evidence was left behind from the incinerating blast of the Soul Swords of Fervor, the first steps of the police investigation were nearly completed. The area had been sealed off with the usual yellow police tape and a squad car patrolled the outside area. 

It was then, not yet discovered, but buried deep within the bowels of the massive tomb, that the smashed computer console panel of the Master Scientist began to whine back to life with a sharp, high pitch. Sputtering blood-black electricity that cursed through its damaged circuits, the console emitted a mysterious, eerie glow that lit up the surrounding darkness. 

Suddenly, as streams of energy began to break through the boulder cracks that entombed the console, their dark, mystical forces also cracked open in the heavens above. Quickly, they whirled and brewed into a roaring firmament of evil that devoured the moon and the stars from the LA night sky, and continued to spread its blanket of despair over the city like a demonworld plague. 

Then, with an explosive thunderclap that reverberated across the skies, a violent gash ruptured across the dark nebula, causing the atmosphere to buckle in agony as it bled sanguine clouds of vapor from its gapping wound. Veins of lightening continued to roll through the ominous dark clouds that finally opened up and released their rains with a mocking, but familiar laughter. But instead of rescuing the city from the oppressive summer heat, the resulting corrosive downpour sent the after-midnighters screaming for cover, as the offensive smell of acid burning against flesh rose into the night. The next morning, the local and nations news couldn't explain the strange weather events, reporting that national meteorologists and other natural scientists were beginning investigations into the "unusual phenomenon". 

But unbeknownst to the rest of the world, this localized manifestation had only been a ruse. For those same dark forces that had so weakly sputtered within the computer console had now grown with enough evil strength, drawn from the pain-induced fears of the local citizens below, to punch a demonic shaft of blood-black light straight up into the atmosphere and beyond. 

With the speed of light, that dark beam traveled until it had reached into the frontier of space and intercepted an orbiting spy satellite, hundreds of miles above the earth. The beam ricocheted off the satellite to continue on its destination, and found another satellite, and then another, until finally, those evil forces had consciously linked and infiltrated every military and communication satellite that orbited around the earth. 

But more importantly, those forces had quickly infected countless miles of integrated circuits to crack through their heavily encrypted security defenses with unearthly ease –- gaining full access to the massive databases and network systems of every major governmental power that controlled those satellites. Yet, those demonic forces slept harmlessly dormant -- and patiently waited for the right opportunity to go live online.

****

Spring –- nature's time for new birth and rejuvenation strolled through the San Francisco Bay Area, once again, for another season. A refreshing sea breeze had blown in a flock of seagulls that glided high over the bay waters and above the city noise and congestion of cars, trucks, and people on foot or on their bikes. As they conducted the business of their day-in-day-out, everyday life, the commuters traveled back and forth, like a trail of busy, unassuming worker ants, bustling along the copper-orange spine of the Golden Gate Bridge. 

Billowy white canvas sheets began to dot against the other blue, as yachts and other watercrafts of leisure streamlined their way across the surface waves, while heavy barges and tug boats steadily plowed through the deep waters of the San Francisco Bay. A nearby water cruiser from the US Coast Guard with its colors flapping in the wind was conducting its usual patrol along the northern California coastline.

But without warning, the calm bay waters shifted and whipped into a choppy, blue-black frenzy, and sudden gale winds whistled in a darkness that quickly folded over the peninsula's area skyline, causing traffic to slow down to a crawl, as pockets of confusion broke out through the city:

"But...it was just light a moment ago..." puzzled a downtown woman on her way to a business meeting in the Financial District. Squinting, she braced herself against the strong winds that tossed her hair and threw bits of dust and trash into her eyes.

"Look! The sun! Oh yeah, baby! Bet we're gonna have ourselves an eclipse...!" exclaimed a bike messenger, his voice ringing with anticipation as he straddled his 18-speed racer and cupped his hand over his eyes, glancing skyward.

"What do you mean about an eclipse?" a nearby motor cop questioned. "There was nothing on the news ab—"

But before he could finish, their reality had vanished in a searing flash of heat and brilliance. With a detonating impact, a monstrous mushroom dome of arcane energies had made its explosive entry and silently swept across the horizon, consuming the city whole, as it savagely disintegrated all within the path of its arch-widening touch. Within the nucleus of this juggernaut, overwhelming forces continued to rage -- with enough explosive tonnage that had already blown away the surrounding blue biosphere -- resulting in its noiseless, but nevertheless, still violent entrance into the temporal world.

What finally emerged from the now-transformed skies, was an imposing black hole -- a dimensional portal -- that tore through the delicate weave between realities. Where the sun had once brightly shined, its expansive, black-smooth surface now reigned high in skies that burned a dark fever-red -- radiating with a power that was not from this mortal plane. Created by the portal's intense gravitational pull, one hundred-foot waves replaced calm harbor waters, reflected the terrifying beauty of its otherworldly magnificence off the surface of their depths.

Then, a silvery blade of light streaked its contrasting slit across the splendor of this pulsating void, and a human figure spilt forth from its cosmic breach and plummeted towards the turbulent bay. With a silent splash, the body of a young female churned below the inky surface of the receiving waters. Her dark naked form, slender and weightless, had curled into a fetal position with her arms delicately wrapped about her folded knees, while a thick cloud of swirling black from her head caressed over her bare features. Unconscious, and unaware of ever having lived a previous life -- of a murdered brother, of her city adventures with five young men -- or even of her own death -- her body quickly floated to the surface, buoyed by the mute sloshing of the murky waves.

In another explosive flash, the material world returned whole, in a collective amnesia with no memories or the marking by time of the past few moments. Everything was restored -- everything was intact. The day-to-day going ons continued at their usual, noisy pace -- just another day in a life. Except for the young black female that drifted in the once-again, calm bay waters.

"We found a floater!" With the help from a pair of high-powered binoculars, a crewmember on watch from the patrolling Coast Guard spotted the young woman's body bobbing along the surface of the waters. A couple of Coast Guard personnel in lifejackets pulled her body from the birthing waters and hoisted her onto the deck of the cruiser where emergency medical attention was immediately applied. 

"I found a pulse..." Swaddled like a newborn within the thick wrap of heavy blankets, a deep, penetrating warmth had begun to spread into her limbs, causing her to stir momentarily. Her water-laden lashes fluttered irratically over their semi-conscious slits. Her dark eyes under the wisps from her water-soaked bangs became pools that now sparkled strangely an icy iridescence from the Otherside within their depths. 

"I-I-I...what the hell...? Did you see...? No...never mind. God. The sun must be reflecting more brightly off the waters...?" 

"Look...I think she may be gaining consciousness. Miss! Miss! Can you hear me?" 

But Luna could barely comprehend the muffled tones that floated in and out, or the shadowy figures that seemed to shift back and forth and all around her against the harshest of lights.

Still, the strength of her spirit strained to move her lips and struggled to hold onto a remnant of that light, but the bleakest of shrouds had wrapped its dark will around her soul, causing her to collapse back into her dreamless cocoon. An electronic communication had already been dispatched for helicopter transportation to the nearest medical trauma center.

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To Be Continued...

A/N: That's right, I'm continuing, reviews or no, because I STILL believe that Luna STILL has a story to tell and I'M TELLING IT.


	3. Destination: Limbo

Disclaimer:Yoroiden Samurai Troopers and all characters in the proceeding story from the television and Original Animated Video (OAV) series, (GaiDen, The Legend of Kikoutei, Message) are the property of Sunrise Animation/Nagoya TV/Sony Entertainment. This story is for entertainment purposes only. However, storyline and other characters, unless otherwise noted, are the property of Crazy Cookie.

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****

TIGER MOON

by DK Cook (Crazy Cookie)

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Chapter Three – Destination: Limbo

"Welcome aboard JAL Flight 117, now leaving Nairobi Jomo Kenyatta International Airport, Kenya. We will have a stopover in Amsterdam, to arrive at our final destination –- Tokyo Narita International Airport, Japan..."

The thunder-roar thrust of jet engines drowned out the shifting of aerodynamic rudders and smooth mechanics of the Boeing's folding 18-wheel landing gear, while lifting the jumbo 747's bulk off black tarmac and high into the blue African skies. Though they started out apart, the five bearers of the mystical armors were pulled back together again. They all had survived yet another encounter on the battlefield -- barely. Once again the human world was no longer threatened of being destroyed, and Mukara and his people, the ancient and enigmatic Tarangi, were no longer dominated by Kuroi Kitoutei -- the black armor. And despite the fact that it was their own armors that were sacrificed along with both Kitoutei, nobody died this time. They were thankful the fates had at least allowed them to live so that they could enjoy the miracle that not even a single life was lost. Still, a strange pensiveness had inflicted their thoughts, causing them to wonder the same thing: _what happens to us now?_

After the first few hours into the air and the attendants had collected the trays from the midday meal, most of the passengers had settled down into their seats for the long flight ahead of them. Separated by the middle seat, Shin and Shu had sat together in the window aisle seats of the plane's cabin. Shin tried to unburden his thoughts with the in-flight movie, but it was Shu's unusual reticence that had drawn his attention. It always seemed that Shu could bounce back from any battle with his incredible resilience and should have showed no mercy to his earlier tray of airline food. Ordinarily it would have been scarfed down to the plastic bottom, while he wished for seconds and maybe even thirds. But instead of wolfing down the last morsel with his usual gusto, Shu had placidly munched on only his third mouthful. Hardly tasting it, he had continued to stare out through the small portal window at the surrounding clouds. He never finished his tray.

"Shu, about earlier...you know, back at Nasutei's place..."

"Wha...? Oh, that. Hey, that's been long forgotten."

"Yeah? Still, I should say something to Touma..."

"Now that the trouble's over, Touma's probably catching up on his beauty sleep. I guess that smart brain of his uses up a lot of energy. Y'know Shin, I've been thinking..."

"No way!", poked Shin. "You really must've gotten knocked harder upside the head during the battle than I thought." He could see how deflated Shu really was. For such an irrepressible personality, it wasn't good for him to loose confidence and start wallowing inside of himself. Jerking his chain, at least a little bit, Shin thought, might be a good distraction and help pull Shu out of his funk.

"Nice try. Weak, but score one on effort. But look, I'm being serious. Of course I was very angry with you, at least at the beginning. And not just because I thought you were afraid to fight. After all, they say every soldier feels fear on the battlefield. Yeah, heh, even me -- but not TOO often. I remembered earlier when we were at the beach, how you said how much you hated fighting. So it looked as if you were running out on the four of us and wanted to leave the team for good, especially when we needed you the most. But...if we all had reacted and fought Mukara without seeing that we were being played for fools by the will of the yoroi... well, what I'm trying to say is... you were the one who was right after all."

"Hey, don't go soft on me now, Hardrock!" Shin's lighthearted tease coated over the emotional lump that begun to swell in his own throat. But the pressing question still hung heavy over both their heads: _are we still a team?_

A few rows in front of them in the center aisle seats, Touma and Jun were napping away, partially reclined in their chairs. Jun's head was slouching against Touma's shoulder for support, and Touma in turn used the top of Jun's head as his own make-shift pillow. Startled, Jun suddenly jerked out of his sleep:

"HUH?!? Heyyy... Y' doin' it _againnn_ Toumaaa...!" Jun groggily moaned, while he irritatingly wiped along the side of his face with the back of his hand.

"Eh...?"

"Y' keep droolin' on my head! Where d'ya think y'at, huh?"

"Poor Jun," Nasutei chuckled to herself, as she tapped away on her computer keyboard, pausing every now and then to savor sips of tea laced with milk and honey. Sitting next to Touma and Jun, Nasutei decided to spend her time inputting the latest information about the yoroi into her portable computer.

A few rows behind Shin and Shu, Seiji decided that meditating on their new situation would be time better spent. So instead of slouching comfortably into his seat like the rest of the passengers, he slightly straightened his spine off the back of his seat, easily folded his hands into his lap, and partially assumed the meditation pose. But no matter how much he focused, he found himself right back where he began —- a lot of questions that seemed to have no answers. Frustrated, he finally settled back into his seat and folded his arms across his chest. Unconsciencsly, he began stroking the edge of his chin as questions about the yoroi continued to play out in his head:

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The yoroi along with both Kikoutei had been destroyed. So...does that mean there is no need for us Troopers? Does that mean that the threat of Arago is permanently laid to rest? But...Kaosu told us that, as long as there is evil in the world and wickedness in the human heart, Arago can return. And I didn't notice that evil suddenly took a holiday. Still, if it _is truly over for us as Troopers..._ "then I'm glad." As Seiji quietly mouthed those three words, the weight of his self-confession and the elated feelings that immediately followed startled him. 

Then a sharp twinge of guilt slapped Seiji across the back of his head, in the guise of his grandfather. The image of the venerable, but very old-fashioned and very, very, strict head of the Date Clan rattled his spine and reduced him to feeling nine years old again, as he was forced to kneel submissively before his wrath. Seiji could feel the hairs along the back of his neck raise as he found himself reliving one of old man's brutal, mouth-foaming reprimands for shirking his responsibilities, hence, bringing dishonor to the Date family name. 

Dearest Grandfather, Seiji cordially began in his mind. _ If I had to give my life, I would so, without hesitation. But, if the yoroi are no more, then there is no responsibility to shirk, and therefore, no dishonor. Isn't_ _this correct, Grandfather?_ he countered. Immediately, the disciplinary image of his grandfather along with his guilt began to evaporate and his ego was reasserted. Unloading this mental burden, he let out a deep cleansing breath of release as a feeling of lightness washed over him. 

We were all so very close to death, Seiji silently continued. _But Shin's trust healed our spirits and our wounds and Ryo was still able to bear Kikoutei. Ryo. I just couldn't let him go by himself. I'm glad that I was by his side, that he didn't have to face Mukara alone in battle. I can tell that he hasn't been quite the same since..._ Seiji thoughts were caught off guard by more repressed feelings of guilt and shame, now mixed with the heat from other emotions that had shoved their way passed his defenses to the forefront of his thoughts -- forcing him to make another confession: 

I haven't been quite the same since America. He tried not to dwell on it because danger and the possibility of death came with the territory of being a soldier against evil. But whenever he did think about it, the experience of his capture, at the hands of Shikaisen and that madman Scientist, would sometimes leave him shakened. He would periodically feel his muscles twitch and fall into involuntary spasms from the electrodes that had fried his nerves, or feel the nauseous aftereffects from the mind-altering hallucinogens that were pumped through his veins. _Thank heaven Korin came back to me and was able to heal the worst of my wounds_, he sighed to himself. Indeed, Korin was able to heal most of Seiji's wounds, but not all of them. Especially his emotional wounds. He had wondered, even with the passing of time, if all of them would ever heal:

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I've tried to deal with it, but...I should've been prepared, I've should've seen it coming...that it was a trap. I'm the one who's suppose to see through evil's lies and deceptions, but instead, I was the one who was completely tricked out and manipulated and used like a...like a drugged-out whore. Used by that damn necromancer. My Korin...used to cause so much misery, so many deaths, and nearly caused the destruction of my friends. Jun...Nasutei. THAT SICK, BASTARD-SCIENTIST! How DARE he use them to try to force me with Korin! If anything had happened to them...to her...! How many times have I worried about their safety? About HER safety? 

Then in one continuous stream of thought, his mind raced through all times he saw Nasutei's life in peril. Yet, somehow, every time when it seemed that the final blow was about to be delivered and her life was about to be taken, she managed to hold on to her courage and survive all those near-death moments: 

"If the decision was mine..." Seiji barely heard himself spoke his thoughts. _But it wasn't mine to make_. _That choice was taken out of all our hands the moment our world was invaded by Arago, and her grandfather became a victim of Arago's evil and died. But if she had died that day in Los Angeles...I would've never been able to forgive myself. _

The built-up anger and tension that now tightened along his jawline causing his teeth to grind had finally snapped Seiji out of his reflective trance. His lavender eyes traced along the back of Nasutei's elbow brushing against the armrest of her seat as she typed away across the computer keyboard. His glance continued to travel across the way to the adjacent row of center seats where Ryo was sitting in a reclined position, relaxed with his eyes closed, although it did not seem that he was really sleeping:

Man, poor Ryo. Seiji thoughts stirred up again, now with a touch of empathy. _I wonder if he ever thinks of her. He must. When Naria was caught in between our battle with Mukara and we thought that she had been destroyed, he cried out, as if it was his fault that 'another' precious life had been taken. Still, it wasn't the same like in Little Tokyo. I didn't realize that he had developed such strong feelings like that, until... until it was too late. She would've had never been involved in the first place if Korin hadn't killed her brother and his friends. But Ryo has never blamed me... not that I don't blame myself because of my...failure. But Ryo is like that...I guess that's why he's our 'heart'. But now, his good smile is gone. And after seeing how Kikoutei's influence twisted Mukara's warrior's heart... warping his mind and nearly corrupted his spirit...even against Naria, his own fiancé. How we all almost succumbed to the dark power of our own yoroi. Between us, we could've destroyed humanity...the very thing we Troopers are suppose to protect..._

Stiffness began to settle between his shoulder blades, causing Seiji to shift uneasily in his seat. As he stare out of the small portal into the blanket of clouds and beyond, the tension in his shoulders began to relax from the relief of knowing that they had succeeded one more time. Yet, he was still tempered by a nagging 'what if': 

If Arago were still alive, he would've been roaring all through the demon world with laughter at the irony of it all. Yeah... Kaosu would've been real 'proud' of his Troopers if we had lost everything. So perhaps loosing the yoroi is a good thing, something that was meant to be and for the better good. No more fighting. No more seeing my friends' lives in danger. And no more deaths. But now...where do the five of us go from here?

****

"GOOD MORNING, AND HOW ARE WE DOING TODAY? Didn't have a good night's sleep? Awww...that's too bad. Here, let me fluff those pillows for you, okay dear? THAT'S better."

The nurse's aid continued to prattle on with her soliloquy, nervously shifting here and there, in her crisp, hospital uniform and sensible white shoes, while fussing over her unresponsive young charge -- the one that all the other nurses were talking about at all the nurse stations in hushed tones. It'd been three months since Luna, now referred to by the hospital's staff as Jane Doe, became one of the many responsibilities of the energetic, non-stop NA. Surrounded by the beeping lights of monitoring devices and a maze of dripping vials and plastic tubing, the Aid chosed to hide her anxiety towards her "unusual" patient, by droning on about the mundane happenings in her own personal life. 

"Now you stay put and give me a couple of minutes. I'll be right back and adjust your feeding tube for your breakfast, okay, dear? Then we'll go do your daily vital stats and the other nurses will check your monitoring connections and your catheter tubing; and then they'll go over your scheduling for your CT scans and physical therapy. And while that's happening, I'll change your bedding and you'll get a nice, clean plastic undercovering. And then afterwards, I'll wipe you down with a soothing sponge bath and check you for any bedsores, powder you down, and then slip you into a fresh hospital gown. Doesn't that sound nice?"

That afternoon, the department chair of neurology gathered his faculty to discuss their cases, especially the "phenomenon" involving "Jane Doe":

"To reiterate the case of Jane Doe," the lead residential neurologist began, "this is a young black female whose estimated to be somewhere from 14 to 16 years old, the apparent victim of a near-drowning in the San Francisco Bay. The Coast Guard immediately transferred her to the hospital's trauma center for emergency treatment and from there, she was admitted for further long-term treatment. When she first came into our care a few months ago, her initial prognosis was extensive brain cell damage, not due to the lack of oxygen from near-drowning itself, but what appears to have been trauma from another unknown source. This is a particularly unusual case. Histories of MRIs and CT scans images have shown that any brain-related injuries have healed completely over. As we know, it is one thing when healthy brain cells take over the functions of dead brain cells that typically can't reproduce themselves. In Jane Doe's case, however, the scans indicate that the actual damaged cells had rejuvenated themselves."

"What about her other tests? What are the results of those?" inquired the department chair.

"None of her cerebral and spinal fluids or blood tests show anything that would explain any of this. Still, her pupils are dilated and she's unresponsive to any outside stimulation. And..."

"And... Please continue..."

The neurologist hesitated and cleared his throat. He fumbled through Luna's history charts to buy himself time and prepare his words to mold them into some kind of logic, to somehow try to make some kind, any kind of sense from them. Yet, he still disbelieved in what has been recorded and in what he was about to stammer: 

"And... her EEG brain activity output since her initial intervention...there are still no peaks...it...its all one continuous flatline."

The neurologist's last words rippled throughout the now still conference room with an uncomfortably long pause. He patiently endured the tough, probing silence of the department chair as he slowly tapped his middle finger against the dark wooden surface of the huge conference table, and rocked back and forth at its head in the plush but squeaky-leather swivel chair: 

"...if you don't mind, I'd like to take a few minutes to look over these results myself..."

The rest of the staff darted their eyes away with a trained, professional nonchalantness as they reviewed their own notes. However, their ears were perked with an uneasy attentiveness to the sharp shuffling of medical notes and other papers. Finally, the department chair looked up and spoke:

"Well...the charts don't lie...are you positively sure these results belong to this patient?"

"Absolutely."

And...and yet, for these past three months, she's been breathing on her own. Is this...correct?"

"Yes."

"All of her other bodily functions appear to be normal", continued the neurologist. "Again, whatever brain trauma she had is now completely healed, yet she has this...atypical brainwave pattern. Needless to say, I've ran a battery of tests, at least ten times over, and gone over their results with my team even moreso; I even consulted with Dr. Gomez, one of the staff's senior neurosurgeons on this. He would confirm what I'm saying right now in this meeting, but currently he's out of town on vacation. However, as you can see, his signature on his own follow up notes supports this. So, in consideration of everything else, I can't declare her as clinically dead, and I hesitate to classify her condition as a comatose one, however, she isn't in the vegetative state either, and she is definitely not fully alert. The second most unusual thing about her is..."

"You mean there's more...?"

"Yes. There are no scarring or bodily markings on her of any kind.

"Hmm, right. Go on."

"Besides the fact that she carries no birth marks, or scarring or healed over fractures from any childhood injuries, she also bears no finger or foot prints, or definite retinal patterns -- nothing. Except for one unusually deep scar, transverse across her right hand that healed over as if it was an incision...some kind of cut made by some sort of blade or other sharp instrument. Still, outside of the EEG, according to all the tests, this patient should be able to get up and walk out of here under her own power, so at the moment, I don't know how else to rule this. It appears that this patient is in some sort of deep, suspended animated-like state. Of course, we've taken the precautionary approach and have her connected to the usual monitoring equipment and included electro-muscular treatment as part of her daily physical therapy to stimulate her muscles and prevent muscular atrophy."

"Is there anything regarding her identity yet?"

"Despite their efforts with the police and outside social agencies, our own hospital's social services still aren't able to come up with anything."

After another long pause, the department chief contemplatively leaned forward in his huge black leather chair, rested his elbows on top of the long dark conference table and folded his hands under his chin as he presented a course of action to his staff.

"At this point in time, I believe we have offered all we can in this particular case. I believe that it's now just a matter of time when Jane Doe will come out of her condition on her own. However, I am also recommending that her care now should be transferred to the state rehabilitation and research facility that specializes in extreme chronic neurological disorders. There, they will have the necessary long-term resources while at the same time, make this patient as comfortable as possible."

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To Be Continued...


	4. Wedding Bells

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Disclaimer: Yoroiden Samurai Troopers and all characters in the proceeding story from the television and Original Animated Video (OAV) series, (GaiDen, The Legend of Kikoutei, Message) are the property of Sunrise Animation/Nagoya TV/Sony Entertainment. This story is for entertainment purposes only. However, storyline and other characters, unless otherwise noted, are the property of (Crazy) Cookie. Do not copy or plagiarize.

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A/N: First thing's first. Just a few words of appreciation to Maryd and Oreana Hashiba. Many thanks to you guys for posting such nice reviews, especially since this is my first ficcie! 

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Glossary – to keep in track of the players – YST (surname first, given name follows)/Ronin Warriors:

yoroi / (mystical) armor

Date Seiji / Sage

Hashiba Touma / Rowen

Mouri Shin / Cye

Rei Fuan Shu / Kento

Sanada Ryo / Ryo (duh!)

Yagiyu Nasutei / Mia

Yamano Jun / Yuli

Arago / Talpa

Mukara & Naria: from Legend of Kikoutei

Suzunagi: from Message

Shikaisen: from Gaiden

Luna: from Gaiden (of course)

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TIGER MOON

Chapter Four: Wedding Bells

by: DK Cook (Crazy Cookie)

animecookie@attbi.com

"Two against one? Sheesh! Is this all I get?" laughed Shu over the whirling of the bo that ripped through the air. He twirled the deadly 'staff of justice' high above his head like an iron windmill, shifting and gliding its two hundred-pound heft between his palms with deceptively graceful ease. 

"Don't worry," Touma snapped back with a smirk. "We'll turn your 'Hard Rock' into mud. And the loser -- oh, by the way, that's going to be you, Shu -- has to pay for eats and drinks for everyone tonight".

"Hey, just because I'm heir of the famous Rei Fuan family restaurant dynasty of both delicious northern and southern-style Chinese cuisine, don't think you guys can take advantage of me", Shu countered. Then with rock-hard emphasis, he whirled the battle staff to an abrupt halt and pinned it securely between the power of his inner arm and upper torso, making it a part of him. "It's also a good thing I brought my appetite, 'cause when I get through giving you two the spankings you deserve, you guys can show what good losers you are and treat me to a beer or three."

"And with your appetite, it's a good thing there are the two of us," grinned Shin. With a quick back-and-forth snapping of his wrist, the shaft of his trident did a sharp clockwise and counter-clockwise rotation while the single-bladed tip twisted into the ground. The sun's rays dazzled between the tripled-mirrored razor blades that slashed the air, creating a small rush of wind and a piercing bell pitch that rung off their razor-sharp edges. "But that doesn't matter because we're not gonna loose. So Shu, what's good on the menu tonight?" 

"I'm gonna serve the both of you up as my 'seafood and chicken special'".

Suiko. Tenku. Kongo. The noonday sun was beating hot through the clear and blue summer skies, but when they each summoned up their ki, the very air that touched them darkened and warped in a surreal moment of time and space. Outfitted in their new yoroi, Suzunagi's parting gifts, they remained motionless in their battle stances wide. The boosting of their elemental powers continued to whistle through their bodies and whine through their armament and gather into air. Then with a powerful surge, the forces of their virtues blasted wide open, streaming and igniting the blackened air around them. And it was from that manifestation of their inner spirits that they broke through the boundaries of the mundane and crossed over into the realm of the supernatural, as three of the five elementals became gods in their own right, encircled in his own personal sphere of light. 

The pain, the thrill, the sadness and the glory of battle -- it all came rushing back to him like old times, causing Shu to chuckle once more. "Prepare yourselves, my friends!"

And in less than a thought, a vortex of shifting sands roared from a blinding white light, snaring up both Suiko and Tenku within its grip. Already smothering inside the localized sandstorm, their forms dissolved into a blur, as the cyclic force of dirt and gravel blinded their eyes and began to clog their breathing passages. 

__

Not bad, Shu. But I'm not buying dinner tonight! Touma gleamed with a sparkle of admiration that flashed through his thoughts and across the crystal blue of his squinted eyes as tiny particles of golden energy began to draw and crackle in the form of a shaft between his fingertips. Faster than any of the mortal senses can follow, Tenku hauled back his bow in one smooth movement -- and a flying arrow of light is his retort. Ripping apart the sand trap from within, the mystical shaft of energy disappeared straight into the strata, drawing unto itself the surrounding atmosphere. Completing its transformation, a funnel of air smashed back down to earth and dispersed the rest of the sandstorm, while forming a protective barrier around both him and Suiko and sweeping them out of harm's way. Just barely, as a wall of seismic shock waves form to smash them as it ruptured up from the floor of the earth.

A tower of stone and gravel then rumbled up from the ground and gave chase, with Kongo riding the top of its platform, elevating him skyward into the heavens.

"Hah! Don't think you two can get away from me that easily!"

"We're not going anywhere", smiled Shin. "But you are. Can you 'wave' good-bye? Here, let me help you!"

A monstrous serpent of water spiraled wildly around the column of stone and swallowed it up -- pulverizing the column into bits of rock as it shifted its form into a superflash flood. But before the huge waves could crash down over Shu and sweep him off the top of his crumbled pedestal, a barricade of rock shoots up between him and the moving wall of water, allowing Kongo to somersault harmless out of the way. Just as Touma was about to follow up with another power stoke, a familiar, and oh, maybe just "slightly peeved" voice blared from a bullhorn from the inside of a SUV, cutting into the rural air of the Yagiyu estate:

"WHAT IN HEAVEN ARE YOU GUYS DOING!?! ALL RIGHT, THAT DOES IT!! THAT'S ENOUGH! NO MORE TEARING UP MY LANDSCAPE!!!"

Moments later, Nasutei's spanking new SUV drove its four occupants down the paved main road. The air was filled with the gentle chirping of small birds and the whining wings of summer beetles, flying and buzzing between the rows of willow, maple and birch trees and the meadow groves that gave the massive Yagiyu suburban grounds its provincial charm. Transformed back into their civilian clothes, Shin sat in the front passenger's seat, while Shu and Touma sat in the back seats and dived into the chilled canned drinks that were stashed in a cooler of ice.

They had just completed the first year of their university studies and now they had come together once again, this time, to attend the wedding of Mukara and Naria. The invitation was presented weeks before in the person of an African messenger, a dark and stately looking woman, dressed in regal emissary robes of the Tarangi people. Nasutei witnessed the emissary magically emerged from the distant trees of the Yagiyu estate, while sipping tea from her terrace and enjoying the smell of morning dew air. 

"Like the new set of wheels. Much more roomier than the Samurai, although I'm sad to see it go. We've made a lot of history riding around in that old buggy. But, I've always said our Big Sister has a lot of taste."

"Trying to change the subject on me, Shu?"

"Um, sorry Nasutei. We'll take care of the mess", Shu offered from the twinge of guilt, as he popped open the top of the aluminum can.

"Don't worry about it Shu..." Nasutei began. But then her thoughts were distracted by a small, multifaceted twinkle that bounced its hypnotic light off the SUV's rear-view mirror. It was a tiny, diamond rock stud that Shu sported in his pierced ear lobe, a small trophy he picked up from his first year at university. "I'll...um, hire someone take care of it and explain it off as some... weird weather damage..." 

Nasutei eyes now began to unconsciously study the outlines of Shu's rugged features. A warm breeze swept through the SUV and caressed the thick, single lock that that curled down the base of his neck. It continued to stroke its fingers through the rest of Shu's cropped indigo hair that not only enhanced the dark blue in his eyes, but the blue-white brilliance of the diamond stud in his ear even more so. He still kept handy that ready smile that spread across his strong jawline. Her eyes drifted along his broad neck and shoulders and continued down and across the barrel of his chest that was so snuggly framed by a light jersey T-shirt. She could felt the warmth of his skin tone express the forthrightness of his robust, but good-natured personality. All this, her eyes secretly drunk in through the discretion of the rear-view mirror. Then, to her surprise, a reminder from last night's lusting returned to haunt her as she felt a hot jolt snake a path through her body and flicked a wet forked-tongue over the throb between her thighs. "But you know Shu, your Uncle Chin was right", Nasutei squirmed nervously over the leather of the driver's seat to clear her thoughts. "You do wear some crazy stuff. Yet, it... fits you."

"Heh, heh, I'm glad you like it, but I'll just bet you couldn't stop yourself from staring, eh... 'Big Sister'!" 

Blindsided by Shu's remark, embarrassment streaked through Nasutei's cheeks. Feeling like a Peeping Tomasina who was openly discovered and dragged out into the village center and exposed in the middle of broad daylight, Nasutei darted her eyes away from the mirror, praying that none of them saw the her foolish face. But when she managed to regain her composure, she now noticed both Shu's and Touma's reflections grinning back at her. She didn't dare look at Shin, who was breaking up and loosing control in the passenger's set next to her.

"Well, um, I really can't believe how much you guys have changed, that's all. I mean, um, your powers... of course. Its been a couple of years since the yoroi vanished with both Kikoutei, yet all of you seemed to have retained all of their mystical powers, maybe even more so."

__

He had better not have said anything...! If that Shu even mentioned just ONE WORD to any of them about what happened last night..., Nasutei fumed.

"Even so, ever since our struggle with Suzunagi, we've haven't had a real chance to explore them. So when we all got together, I guess we got a little bit carried away", explained Shin between gulps of cola and fits of giggles.

"Mmm. Individually, we've all tried to keep our powers focused and sharp," Touma pointed out. "But of course we also had to finish up high school and then attend university. And now, these days... Shu, you're starting to get more involved in the operations of your family's chain of restaurants, right?"

"Yeah, that why I'm getting my university certificate in business management. After all, there's more to running a restaurant than cooking and serving' food and drinks."

"And thought I still have quite a ways to go, I'm steering my studies towards a doctorate in marine biology," Shin interjected. 

"Oh, and Seiji." Nasutei wasn't conscious of the smile that curled across her face. "He said he was driving. He should be arriving any time now, but I'm sure we'll get back before he arrives." 

Quietly Shin, Shu and Touma shot each other quick, knowing glances as Nasutei continued reminiscing. 

"So Nasutei... Seiji's change too... but I'm sure you've been keeping track of that too, mmm?" Shin just couldn't resist. Both Shu and Touma were cracking up on the backseats, trying not to choke on their drinks.

"I've also noticed that the three of you have very healthy legs as well as healthy wits." Nasutei's voice now became sharp and filled with irritation. "So if you don't knock it off, I'm going to stop the SUV and let the three of you walk the rest of the way back. And you better _NOT _use your powers and mess up the rest of my home."

"Nasutei, we didn't mean any harm, right Shin?"

"Yes, Nasutei, Shu's right. We didn't mean to hurt your feelings, isn't that right Touma?"

"Don't pay attention to them, Nasutei. Despite attending university, they still don't know any better."

"Backstabber-suck-up-dog-of-the-female-persuasion."

"That's not your usual vocabulary, Shu. Amazing. I am truly impressed. But still, that's why I've got the brains", a smug Touma smiled in triumphant.

"Maybe if you'd stop sitting on them, then we'd all be impressed", grumbled Shin.

"Now I know where Jun gets it from", Nasutei sighed sarcastically. 

__

But I'm sure, at least I HOPE that Shu didn't say a thing to the others. Yes. He won't say anything, I'm sure of it. Nasutei continued reassuring herself about Shu over the previous night's incident. She had to believe it in order to hold up her head while facing the others. _ He'll be a real gentleman and say nothing of what happened. But still...it would have been best if he had never caught me doing THAT in the first place._ Nasutei could feel her cheeks broiled hot again from intense embarrassment. And again she bemoaned the fact that she had been caught secretly masturbating by, of all people, Shu: 

__

Oh-ooo!...But I REALLY should have been more careful! Nasutei began chastising herself all over again for her major indiscretion._ Heaven help me, but what was I thinking?! But...after all, I AM a twenty-two year old, red-blooded, healthy young woman -- and its NOT like I'm having sex all over the place! But then that's the problem, isn't it? I don't have ANY relationships that involve sex at all. But who am I kidding, what with taking over all of grandfather's research and fieldwork at the university. Thank goodness I was already working under him as his assistant. And my invitation and speech at the UN council was also a real plus in establishing my credentials as far as the world of academia is concerned. And since I just earned my doctorates, I was accepted as a full-time professor on the staff of grandfather's university without too much resistance about my age. But because of it, the pressure's always on to continue validating myself, especially to some of my much older colleagues. And since there is so much work that needs to be done... _

With so many exhaustive concerns rattling through her head, Nasutei let out another plaintive sigh, and continued her worries about last night: 

Earlier that afternoon, Shu had been the first of the group to arrive at the Yagiyu mansion and had already settled down into his temporary quarters, just a few rooms down the hall from her own bedroom -- still enough distance, or so Nasutei thought. Nasutei had expected the others to arrive the next day, which would have allowed her perhaps just a little more time for herself, which she also believed. 

So before retiring, Nasutei had emerged from a steamy bathroom doorway from the shower she just took and entered directly into the spacious master bedroom where she slept. Wearing just a light and simple silk bathrobe, she strolled barefoot across her bedroom towards a set of double-window doors that led out to her bedroom terrace. The long ends of her auburn hair had been pulled up and pinned high on top of her head, however there were a few wet strands that coiled sensually down the nap of her neck. Her body lingered with the scent of citrus, while her skin, already stimulated by the shower with a glowing undertone of pink, was complemented more so by the seafoam green of the robe. Despite being half Nipponese, Nasutei's French ancestry appeared to express itself as the more dominant strain through the fairness of her skin tone. 

That night however, Nasutei didn't bother to finish dressing into her usual nightgowns, nor did she even bothered slipping on a bra or into a fresh pair of panties. Instead, she took instant pleasure from the way the robe draped loosely on her body, because, in her anticipation, her imagination was set on fire by provocative thoughts involving a certain blond kendo practitioner, who had a pair of the most intense lavender eyes she had ever seen.

At first she had resisted the thought. They had known each other for some time now, but in the beginning, she only saw him as just "one of the guys", after all, he was three years her junior and at the time she was just seventeen. But now she was twenty-two, a young woman in every sense of the word, and over the past five years she saw the teenage boy transform into a young man, full of maturity and depth that far exceeded his nineteen years. Those three years that once meant a world of difference between a man and a boy were becoming more and more insignificant with the passing of time.

With each subtle movement, Nasutei appreciated the robe's silkiness as it skimmed against her nipples and down along her thighs and over the firmness of her buttocks, thus coaxing her body into a liquid semi-aroused state. Responding from the lack of sexually activity in her life, Nasutei's body had become increasingly sensitive in other ways as well. Such as the erotic feelings she derived from the way her feet sunk deeply into the plushiness of the bedroom's wall-to-wall carpeting, its soft fibers tickling between her toes with her every step. This further encouraged Nasutei into performing an even riskier behavior, something that her common sensibilities would not otherwise have allowed.

Arriving at the terrace, Nasutei flung open the twin glass doors wide and was immediately buffeted by a strong nighttime breeze. Her bathrobe was flapping all around her from the warm winds that gently restrained her body, as invisible fingers untied the robe's loosely held sash. Although she didn't completely loose her robe, it easily slid off the curves of her shoulders, completely exposing the blush of her white breasts; the robe rolled away over the swell of her hips, displaying her hidden red-brown tuft of pubic hair. Closing her eyes, Nasutei pretended that it was his lips that were responsible for the series of blowing caresses that undid her hair and traced its hot breath all over her eyelids, her cheeks, her mouth and down the hollow of her throat. 

The air currents continued stroking up and down the length of Nasutei's body, causing her nipples to stiffen and tingle more warmly, while the rest of her skin flushed from excitement. Under nature's further manipulations, she then opened her legs slightly apart; as she allowed another seasonal blast to nuzzle softly, this time between her inner thighs, she felt a rush of desire lick quickly across her vaginal lips. Instinctively she reached down between her thighs and with a whispering moan, fondled lightly the inner petals to her sex. She finally opened her heavy-lidded eyes and examined her fingertips; they were glistening wet, soaked by the heat of her lust.

This was the foreplay combination of wind, silk and illicit imagination that prepared Nasutei's body for the self-gratification it was about to receive. She felt like the proverbial angel who was about to fall from Heaven's grace...

...And it felt so delicious.

Nasutei left the window doors opened, but slowly drifted away from the terrace towards her bed. Still hanging loosely from her body, she let the bathrobe slide off her arms and gather onto the floor with a light rustle. Sitting along the mattress' edge, naked and feeling utterly helpless, Nasutei hugged herself tightly and squeezed her knees together, stranded between the conflict of her carnal appetites and lustful frustrations. "Help me, I feel so...vulgar. _Oh-uh...dammit..._I _HATE_ it when I get like this," she cursed herself. Nasutei always took a certain pride and confidence in the discipline behind her academic acumen, which in turn won the attention of her beloved grandfather. And the love that they both shared of Japanese folklore made her the perfect candidate of becoming his assistant. But no scholarly dissertation could argue away the want that ached between her loins. She was in terrible heat; she knew that she would never be able to get to sleep from this point on. Should she seek relief by taking another shower? No. Not that way. She wanted to let her own fingers finish off what the summer breezes had begun. 

Now lying fully on top of the bed sheets along her back, she fell into a false sense of security within the generous size of her huge bed that could have easily supported the bodies of two. She shut her eyes once more and opened her legs wide, bending them at the knees. Leisurely, one of her hands crept across her chest. She could feel the heat from her fingers tracing with deliberate slowness around the swelling of her nipples, while her other hand roamed below her abdomen and settled between her thighs, savoring the heat that radiated from her inner lips. Now this time with more certainty, she inserted a middle finger all the way up to its center knuckle, parting the inner lips that led into the steamy passage of her swelling slit. Deeply sliding her finger in and out, again and again, her inner muscles contracted with pleasure around the single digit. Then she withdrew her finger, and using tiny circular motions, she rotated the edge of her finger around, spreading her juices to help stimulate the pink sensitive tip her clit. This was the part that she loved. It always amazed her at how slick she could become just from using her fingers and her imagination, causing her to wonder just how wet he could really make her during the actual act of penetration. _To have Seiji do that to me, to actually... _Dare she? Would her reluctance allow her to say it, let alone dare to think it? "Yes...to have dear Seiji... 

..._fuck me..._"

The hand that had earlier teased her erect nipples now moved down to join with the other between her opened thighs. With one hand, she was plunging two fingers deep into her throbbing hole, while grinding her clit hotly with her other hand. Barely able to breathe, she heard herself gasping in short quick breaths, her breasts rising and falling as she tried to pull as much air as she could into her lungs through the small opening of her mouth. Then, her whole body began climaxing out of control. Rocking her head from side to side, Nasutei had whipped herself up into such frenzy that her moans grew louder, almost audible screams, completely forgetting that she had a guest in her home.

Two doors down from her room, Shu was still awake. The darkness was filled with the sounds of metal mattress springs groaning under the weight of his restless tossing around. "If I don't get any sleep soon, I'll just be too tired to see the guys when they arrive. Maybe a glass of warm milk might do the trick. Mmm...and maybe some of those tasty little petit fours Nasutei brought from that French pastry shop that just opened..."

Putting on a dark brown bathrobe over his orange-striped pajamas and sticking his feet into a pair of floppy bedroom slippers, Shu intended to shuffle his way down the long upper floor hallway down to the first floor kitchen. But as soon as he stepped out of his guestroom and into the hall, he was stunned to hear what sounded like muffled screams filtering out of Nasutei's room and immediately thought the worse:

"Oh no! Nasutei's being attacked! Hold on Nasutei! Hold on, I'm coming!!!"

Shu always thought of Nasutei as more than just a friend but likened her to an angelic older sister who was always there providing support and guidance when the world was in danger. So it never even occurred to him that her loud moans might have been indicative of something other than a force of evil. 

Strong as it was, the door to Nasutei's bedroom was no match against Shu's broad shoulders, as he barreled down the hallway then crashed through the entrance like a battering ram, smashing the solid door into splintering bits. Not even caring that it might be unlocked, Shu nevertheless wanted to use the element of surprise to at least scare the bastard culprit away. Or attempt to use the advantage to gain the initiative and catch whoever would have the balls to break into the home of his dear 'older sister' and commit whatever unspeakable acts against her person:

"Huh? OH MY GOD!! SHU!!" Nasutei screeched.

"Heheh! Alright damn you! Whoever the hell you are, you're gonna –- 

HOLY SHIT!! BY THE GODS GREAT AND SMALL!! N-NASUTEI?!!

Alarmed from being totally caught off-guard, Nasutei sprang up in a panic, grabbing at anything to cover herself, while trying to regain control of the situation and pretend that what Shu thought he saw was not what he thought, although it was exactly what he thought and saw. However, still distressed and disoriented, Nasutei kept shifting back and forth across her bed like a small animal, unwittingly caught in a trap of her own making. This in turn caused her to accidentally roll off the bed's edge and hit the floor with a loud thud in a trail of bed sheets that followed behind her.

"B-B-B-BIG SISTER!! I-I'M SO SORRY!! I-I THOUGHT --!

Her hair completely mussed up with stray hairs running criss-cross her face and over her shoulders, Nasutei slowly peeked her eyes above the height of the bed but had risen no further, and called out in a meek, shamed-filled voice. "I-Its alright Shu. I'm okay."

"A-are you sure? I mean, I didn't mean to –-"

"Yes Shu, I'm sure. It's okay, really. I'm fine...honestly."

"Really? Do you need any help? I mean, the way you hit the floor..."

"No, Shu. I'm not hurt. I'm okay."

"Well, um, okay..."

"Okay..."

"Okay. Alright. Good. Everything's alright. Um...can I ask --"

"Goodnight, Shu."

"But I'd just like to know –-"

"GOODNIGHT SHU!"

"But how -–"

"Shu, even though you're really not, I still think of you and the others as the brothers I never had, and you think of me as your older sister, right?"

"Of course, Nasutei. You know that's true."

"THEN DON'T PUSH IT, LITTLE BROTHER!"

"Right. Um, Goodnight Nasutei. Sorry about your door."

Several minutes had passed before Nasutei could get over the horror of being caught red-handed and finally drag herself off the floor. Wrapped in a confusion of sheets, she crawled back into her bed, then stretched her arm over to turn out the light of her nightstand. Still stewing from humiliation, she lambasted herself. _How could I have been SO stupid! Please, don't let Shu say ANY of this to anyone. Especially Seiji! _The thought of loosing Seiji's respect made Nasutei pull the free corners of the sheets that still wrapped around the rest of her body over her head to cover her face. Nasutei's eyes then began to water as she sniffled quietly in the dark. Finally, she drifted off to sleep.

Totally forgetting the reason why he got out of bed in the first place, Shu headed back towards his guestroom with the most conflicted look on his face, asking himself if what he saw was, indeed, what he saw. The initial shock of catching Nasutei naked as a blue jay and getting herself off with her hands between her legs was wearing off and had mutated into astonishment, and then into wonderment, causing him now to chuckle in amusement:

Our Nasutei...wow...never would I have thought that she was such a babe. But...oh man, she must've have felt terrible getting caught like that by me. Of course she'll always be our 'older sister'. But... she'll never be able to face the others again if they knew, and she doesn't deserve that. In a way, Seiji would be just as embarrassed hearing about it. Man, those two dumb bunnies, thinking that nobody can see what's happening. He's just as bad as her, pretending that his life is just too busy for anything else. Is it the 'age-thing'? Seiji's nineteen and she's twenty-two, so what? Well, whatever the problem is, those two had better make a decision soon. Especially after tonight. 

Settling back beneath the covers, Shu nested the back of his head within the support of the bed pillow and casually folded his hands over his chest while staring into the darkness. Just as sleep was about to overtake his lids, a curious thought popped into Shu's head:

__

Hmm...but if Seiji doesn't do anything, then maybe I could...naahhh.

With that cleared up in his mind, Shu rolled over onto his side, pulled the bed covers up over his shoulders and snored off to sleep.

__

...Come on Nasutei, snap out of it and keep you mind on the road and into the present. However, her thoughts became more solemn, the moment she reminded herself what the true meaning of her life was:

We were all brought together by fate for the purpose of protecting humankind. My poor, dear Grandfather...you knew, and understood and died believing that. Just like all those people from the past -- and their graves that appeared before the Troopers, and Suzunagi – to help them, especially Suzunagi, to understand that they were not the only ones who have suffered hardships and sacrifices. 

They were all outnumbered when they lost their lives. And they died horrible, brutal deaths. Yet because of their sacrifice, the yoroi were protected against the overwhelming forces of darkness. They had no special powers – they were just plain, ordinary folk who made a difference. They knew that they weren't worthy to wear the yoroi. But they also knew that some day, the chosen ones would come and would need the mystical armors to fight in the great battle, against the demon lord Arago's return to walk the earth once more. They knew the armors must be kept safe, for their use in a future that these people would never see. And despite the power and the dark potential of the armors themselves, those people from the past fully understood that they couldn't let the armors fall into the wrong hands because there was more than just their lives at stake. It was about the survival of their world, and for the billions of lives from future generations yet to be born – our world that we know today. They couldn't let evil succeed and have the armors. They couldn't let evil win. So, as the protectors of the mystical armors, they all gave the ultimate for the greater good, for something bigger than their own precious lives. And in doing so, those plain folk died with more honor than the noblest samurai in the land could ever hope for. Because, without their past sacrifices -- there would have been no Samurai Troopers to defeat Arago in our world today. I mustn't ever forget that. So don't worry, Grandfather. I'll continue with your life's work, and stand in your place. And I'll make you proud. And, that means...I'm just going to have to put Seiji out of my mind, and somehow, keep my distance. I can't afford any more 'mistakes' like that. 

Still...what I do privately behind closed doors is none of anybody's business! That is, if certain people will stop crashing through my doors... 

"Well, anyway, as I was saying", Nasutei cleared her thoughts and her throat and continued. "Besides his studies in philosophy, Seiji also plans to take on more of his grandfather's shrine duties and run the kendo school with his mother -- now that his grandfather is retiring soon." 

"Wha... that old warrior slowing down? Shu exclaimed. I don't believe it."

"Yeah, that's what Seiji told me as well," added Touma. But the extra responsibilities have really cut into Seiji's car racing activities. 

"Wow. Seiji's getting too serious. I know how much he loved his cars and his racing", Shin reflected.

As for myself, I'm going for a double major in math and computer science, as well as helping my dad, the "crazy scientist". Of course I'll continue towards a doctorate as well." Touma reached down between the melting ice of the chess cooler and helped himself to another canned drink.

"Yes. And its your talents with computer programming and mathematics that I'd like to discuss further with you," Nasutei suddenly mentioned, as their conversation reminded her to approach Touma about her "special" need. "Particularly in application to your interest in the specialty of encryption and security information."

"You know Touma... you're going to hurt yourself one day with that big brain of yours", cautioned Shin.

"I'm certainly hurting my personal life, if you know what I mean, so I guess I should be the last one to make jokes. Even my mother is beginning to ask about meeting her future daughter-in-law. And she's the last person on earth I ever thought would be asking –- I didn't think she'd want to be a grandmother this soon! I tell her in the end, it'll all be worth it, and that everyone will be proud. Even my future wife, whoever that will be."

"So Nasutei, has Ryo returned yet?" Shin asked, realizing too late, that a tender spot had been pricked, but still tried to change the focus from Touma. Samurai Troopers or not, a successful and complete life is not an easy thing to have, harder to keep.

"Well, he should've wrapped up his photography presentation finals by now, so I expect him any moment now."

"Who would've thought," pondered Touma. "Ryo, a photographer... like his father".

"Frankly," Nasutei began, "I couldn't imagine him tied down as a 'salaryman', working, heaven knows, how many hours in a stuffy company cubicle, breathing air-conditioned air, and grabbing ready-to-go ramen for a bite to eat, while catching up on his sleep in between train rides to and from work. And despite his move to the city, he's lived pretty much on his own in all that wide-opened mountain air. He also said something about wanting to see a bit more of the world, so once he graduates with an art degree in photography, he's looking to go abroad on an assignment as an assistant."

"Yep, that's our Ryo," Shin acknowledged.

"It's so funny... when I look back on the first time when we all met. The mortal world was in a crisis and could only by saved by five who were chosen to wear the mystical armors, but you all were only fourteen at the time, except you Shin, you were fifteen."

"And Nasutei, you were only seventeen at the time. But now, we get to officially call you Professor Nasutei," Shin began to tease again.

"You know, you're just as bad as Jun. He must've hung around you guys just a little too much. Remember how he used to call you all 'big brother this' and 'big brother that' and me 'big sister'? Now he likes to occasionally tease me with 'Professor'. I don't know. Maybe its because he's already begun his extra cramming to enter high school and needs to let off a little steam."

"Jun must be going on thirteen by now," noted Touma.

"Huh!" Shu smiled. "Little no more!"

"That's right," Shin concurred. "We weren't much older when we first had to tackle one of Arago's demon-soldier grunts in downtown Shinjuku." 

One story had spun into another as they recounted all the good times and bad they had shared as bearers of the yoroi and brothers-in-arms. The impressive Yagiyu country residence finally loomed into sight as they cracked open one more round of drinks. 

Remember a few years ago when we were sixteen?" Shu reminisced. "It was around this time. How one moment, we're celebrating Ryo's sixteenth birthday. The next moment, we're flying to America to rescue Seiji and then we run into Luna..."

The warmth in the suburban air had suddenly vanished. Their abrupt moodswing, from merriment to melancholia, caused the sounds of summer to deafen into cold silence.

"I-I guess... actually watching a friend die... is something you never quite get over..."

****

"I-I know someone's there." Her voice, at least what seemed like her voice, rung hollow into the endless abyss of her subconscious as she struggled to form the correct sounds. 

"Tell me...where am I?" There. She could feel him -- the strange entity that had burrowed deep within the folds of her enigma. She felt his silence prickling her isolation everywhere. 

"Who are you? Show yourself!" impatiently she demanded.

But the only response Luna heard was the sound of her own heart, beating against an infinity of suffocating black, so wide, so dense, that she couldn't tell the difference between up and down, left and right, or front and back. Yet, the tension she heard pounding through her breast was the only thing that confirmed her suspicions of her own existence. She didn't know who she was. She didn't know where she was. But she knew that she was lost. And she knew she wasn't alone. Strangely, she could feel herself swallow down a bitter nervousness that soured in her mouth:

"Whoever you are...ANSWER ME!"

The entity's reply hurdled Luna's psyche back through eons past within an excruciating shock of light. Her mind reeled in pain as she crashed through the surge of centuries that rolled over the oceans of time. Then, another searing brilliance of white slammed into her already battered and incoherent thoughts, further rattling her to a heart-dropping stop. Yet, when the dizziness and red cloud that pounded her vision had lifted, the reality from antiquity that now surrounded her had floated into focus. Unprotected, her senses recoiled at the sick gurgles of death, as she now witnessed the gruesome scene of the human slaughterhouse that played out before her discorporeal eyes.

Blood -- its stink hung heavy in the air. It splattered violently across rich silk tapestries and ran thickly down tiled mosaic walls. It bled red across gleaming white marbled floors and soaked deeply into the naps of sumptuously woven oriental rugs. All these things, including the lives of those butchered in the name of sacrifice, belonged to the master of this hidden fortress from a Persia that existed millennia ago. 

They wailed and screamed, as they were herded, dragged and bound like any other livestock. All their feverish prayers for forgiveness from their master for whatever unknown transgressions they might have done had fallen on ears made tone-deaf. Even as their jugulars were slashed and stretch opened by crescent ritual blades. Yet their bodies remain warm with just enough life for the melodic incantations to be spoken, before death could arrive to stiffen them cold. Without remorse, and with the assistance from what was left of his original army of disciples, the Grand Wizard personally carried out the mass killings of his eleven wives and forty of his own children. These were not enemies or strangers, but fifty-one souls that were suppose to be the dearest to him, but were instead offered as payment for the return of his demonic powers and former stature.

But before Luna could finish forming the question within her subconscious, the entity responded, aware of her disgust and repulsion:

"T'is true. I was human once..."

...A former master of a remote province, he was a man of immense power and cunning who emerged to his ruthless prominence during a pre-Islamic orient. But his true talents laid in the unholy arts. He used his superior intellect to house the vast knowledge of the near-forgotten desert rituals -- arcane rites that were old as the sands themselves. He also mastered the secret rites such as the ritualistic gutting of a screaming victim who was still conscious and struggling while his entrails were being examined to gain a small glimpse of the future. Or a spell that required the capturing of an enemy warrior's spirit to do his bidding by pounding and cracking open the chest walls of a live victim, and rip out the still beating heart from the trunk. Whatever hideous gesture applied, in order for the magic to be successful, it was all important that the sacrifice be kept alive for as long as possible, in order to tap into that victim's suffering and agony before death. This required great skill and dexterity, for the victims never lasted very long. And there were more than enough victims, each dying slow gruesome deaths from his 'trial and errors' performed secretly within his dark lair.

From these dark powers and atrocities his reputation grew. Some say he collaborated with the Djinn, supernatural spirits of smoke and air, who could be benevolent towards man -- or malicious to the extreme. Other rumors accused him of actually being an Efrit, one of the most powerful and feared of the Djinn, who stalked the lands in the guise of man. But the Caliph observed the Wizard's cruel ambitions and the fear that they inspired; he had to be stopped before his unearthly wisdom could topple even the gods from their heavenly thrones. A powerplay was inevitable. But even then, it was only with the combined magical forces of his brothers from the neighboring desert kingdoms that the Caliph was able to crush the Grand Wizard and vanquish him forever from their lands. 

With his power smashed, he became steeped in a rancid bitterness from a defeat that he could never accept, and continued to spiral in his downfall. He sought revenge against a humanity that he felt had robbed him of his place amongst the heavens. But to obtain it, he knew that there would be an unknown and terrible price, one, that up to this point, he was not willing to pay. But now, the Wizard's blind arrogance made him care _not_ what the consequences may bring. So with everything in place, the Wizard summoned up the last vestige of his once-considerable magic, and performed the most depraved of rituals and sung the most dangerous of lyrics, to make his contract with a Marid, the most diabolical of all the Djinn, for power over all. But instead of going before the Wizard in a cloud of smoke, as was customary of most Djinn, this Marid arrogantly snatched the Wizard's lair, down to its stone foundations, and summoned the Wizard into _his_ realm.

" 'Grand' Wizard'!" mocked the Marid. "Though thou hast summon me, my time is of the utmost import, and thy time, nay, is but short. So quickly, speak! What is thy wish?" The omnipresent voice bellowed from the infinite clouds that overwhelmed the Wizard's mighty fortress, making it look small. 

"I crave for that power -- to scorch the heavens above the heads of my most hated enemies and to lay waste to the earth beneath their feet."

"Hah! Thou asketh for so much, yet offer so little." 

"I give you all that I have, oh Great Amongst the Mighty. And this is not just one sacrifice but of many."

"Yet, what thou doth ask for is, in truth, the destruction of all nations and the subjugation of their populations to sate thy corrupt vanity -- not just a puny enemy here or an insignificant army over there. Thou covet the secret of the five cosmic elements that encompass all of creation, that which maketh -- and can unmaketh -- the universe. Even_ I _do not possess that power, or the right, to bestow." 

"Then favor me with immortality, that I may spend the millennia regaining, yea, indeed, surpassing my former glory." _And perhaps learn the secret to that power that can do and undo all,_ the Wizard schemed. 

"Favors nay, but caution be unto thee to contemplate very, very carefully for what thoust seek!"

"Yes! Yes! This is what I wish!"

"So! Shall it be done! Now, go forth with thy well-deserved persona...and truly slay the ladies. HaHaHaHaHaHaa!"

And so the Marid accepted this unholy payment in blood -- but took one more thing. The Wizard screamed wildly in agony, as the smoky fingers of the ancient trickster stabbed deep into his chest and ripped away the last of the Wizard's virulent soul. This was the final seal to their evil pact, by severing the Wizard's last connection to his humanity and the limitations imposed by the mortal world. The Grand Wizard felt the anguish of his physical body dying, as if his insides were being eaten alive by thousands of maggots from within. This was his true and putrid nature revealing itself, destroying bone and muscle in the process, causing the Wizard to shrivel into a ghoulish, decaying thing. So it was upon this blood-soaked stage of the innocent that the necromancer was born and set into motion his eternal lust for domination that can only be satisfied through malevolent acts of death.

An iciness froze the core of her being as Luna once again felt herself crashing within the seas of time, to fall into one of the many shadowy backstreets of recent-day New York after dark. The small alleyway was dripping red from the fresh killing of a small local gang. She didn't know why, but for some unknown reason the body of one particular member who tried to protect his girlfriend in vain, caught her terror-filled attention. He was dead, lying face-down in the gutter and in a pool of his own bloody squalor. She couldn't help herself, but to her surprise, a strange sorrow began to flood her eyes and a mournful feeling wretched within her chest. She felt a deep bond with this young man, and with his death, she too, felt that she had died.

"No... I-I... why do I feel...? His face...I want to see his face," she cried. But she still couldn't understand exactly what he was to her. Oddly, she wiped away the wetness that ran against what felt like her cheeks.

"It was this one's death that brought you to me," cackled the bodiless voice, like old dry bones rattling in the darkness. But do not worry -- he and his comrades were nothing but common street filth, urban trash that nobody in this world cared about or will miss. Much like yourself."

"SHUT UP!" Unsure of who he was, but still moved by how he made her feel, Luna responded with a tiny, whimpering, "I care". Suddenly, something flickered across her memory. "You... it was you?!? You were responsible! YOU killed him...AND I WANTED YOUR LIFE!"

"That, I have already forfeit, along with my wives, my heirs and my humanity, all those thousands of years ago. The name of my ancestors' ruling house -- and even my name, my true name, I no longer remember. Still... you do not understand, do you? Your hand –- observe it!" the voice commanded.

"Wha...?" It was a strange sensation to actually see and feel; that she not only had a real limb, but that she felt connected and whole. Her shoulders were once again covered by a hooded jacket and a pair of cuffed jeans that rubbed above her knees, while her feet were snug in a pair of sloppy socks and street high-tops. They felt so familiar, yet, somehow, out of sorts, as if they belonged to someone else in a different life. She could even feel the wisps of her bangs and her long braid as it tussled along the length of her back in the windy alley. Slowly and thoroughly, she examined her right hand and its five fingers, both front and back, marveling at its discovery. She was like a baby who saw her own hand for the first time and made that wondrous connection that 'this is me'. But what caught her attention the most was that dark scar that ran deep along her palm and the small, annoying tickle that wiggled within it. Her curiosity quickly changed to confusion, as the tickle became an itch.

"My hand! W-What's wrong with my hand?" Luna screamed.

Then the itch writhed painfully into a sizzling burn. Her confusion turned into pain and shock when the burning in her hand burst into a crawling mass of flesh-eating maggots that swarmed over her fingertips and up along her forearm:

"OH NOO!! IT HURTS!! WHAT'S HAPPENING TO ME? 

AAHHHH!!!"

Then the necromancer's filaments of evil charged out at her from every filthy hole and crevice in the alley. So fast they struck, Luna barely had time to put up her arms in protection against the razor-sharp slashes. Easily they shred her clothing to ribbons and viciously sliced into her tender flesh. And like her hand, each cut burned and swelled until a fester of worms burst forth from every wound on her body, causing her shrieks of pain and horror to echo throughout the void:

"LET ME GO!! STOP IT!!! STOP!!! UHHNNGGRRLLL!!!"

The image of a deformed evil spirit, who reviled in death and fear, branded itself onto her brain. Now she knew, too late, that it was he -- the one who now called himself Shikaisen. Luna continued her vain struggling against the tentacles that now bound her up tightly into the air and against her will, but she knew she had already lost. Her braid was the last thing showing from her body, for the maggots had completely swarmed over her and ripped her insides apart, to begin feasting on her soul. She was strangling from the inside-out, gagging on the parasites that wretched through the openings of her mouth, and from her ears and nostrils. Her tears flowed uncontrollably from her eyes; no longer was she able to endure the agony of her violation.

"Can't you just savor the sweetness of it all? I show you these things because we are going to be together for a very, very, very long time." Worse than the worms was his laughter that bore through her torment and scraped her to the marrow. "Heheheheh. The one called Rekka...Wildfire...I saw. In his most deepest of hearts, he burned for you. But too late he was...cackle! I even witnessed his tears for you, yes I did! Hah! Too bad for him, and even worse for you! And know you this, you -- _you_ who was _nothing_ more than the garbage in those underground sewers that you played in! _You,_ who's interference cost me the ultimate prize of a thousand generations! And for that, I _rage_ at the thought it was _not_ in my putrid arms that you died -- so I could gorge on the final agony of your passing! But I -- I still have much to do. I, who art immortal, am not finished with this herd of sacrificial cows called humanity. Therefore, consider this, my eternal vow: as I take you now, I'll NEVER give up my vengeance on this world... 

...My wife, my bitch... MY SLAVE!"

"LOVE -- ISN'T IT GRAND? NYAHAHAHAHAHAAAH!!"

__

To Be Continued...


End file.
